ou look washed-out, and the tramp'll do you good!..."

Marsh shook his head. "I can't go, Henry," he said. "It isn't only
to-morrow morning that I want to go to Mass ... I want to go the day
after ... and I want to go with all ... all my people on Easter Sunday!"

"You've grown very religious, John. Do you go to Mass every morning?"

"I've been every morning now for a month. You see, one doesn't know ...
well, perhaps I am growing more religious. I won't keep you now. Perhaps
I shall see you again!..."

"Why, of course, you'll see me again. Heaven and earth, man, anybody'd
think you were going to die, the way you talk!"

Marsh did not speak. He smiled when Henry spoke of dying, and then
looked away. They were still standing on the bridge, and he leant on the
parapet and looked down on the lake.

"Queer things, fish!" he said.

"Not nearly so queer as you are," Henry answered. "Why won't you come
with me? You won't want to be cooped up in Dublin all Easter, do you?"

"Cooped up!"

"Yes. Two or three days of mountain air 'ud do you a world of good.
You'd better come with me!"

"No, I can't," he answered so abruptly that Henry did not press the
matter again. "When are you going to be married, Henry?" he asked,
speaking in his old, kindly tone again.

"At the beginning of May ... less than a fortnight now!"

Marsh turned away from the water, and stood with his back to the
parapet. "Why don't you spend Easter with your fiancee?" he said.

"That isn't quite possible, John. I should only be in the way, if I were
there now!"

"Or at Ballymartin. It would be rather nice to spend Easter at
Ballymartin!"

"Well, I will, if you'll come with me...."

"I can't do that. I don't think I should stay in Dublin at Easter if I
were you...."

"Why?"

"Oh, it'll be dull for you. People go away. There's not much to do. I
should go to the North or over to England or somewhere if I were you!"

Henry felt resentful. "You seem damned anxious to get rid of me, John,"
he said. "You won't come into the mountains with me, and you keep on
telling me to clear out of Dublin!"

Marsh turned to him quickly, and put his hand on his arm.

"My dear Henry," he said, very gently, "you know that I don't feel like
that. I thought you'd be ... I thought you'd have a happier Easter out
of Dublin, that was all. That place in Wales, where you went with poor
Farlow...."

"Tre'Arrdur Bay?"

"Yes. Why don't you go there? It really isn't mu